Enter the Sandman
by Subkulture
Summary: When P.I. Gray Fullbuster is invited to a noble's party by a client the party goers start falling asleep. A night out turns into a new case that he has to solve before he joins them.


**Enter the Sandman**

_-Fairy Tail-_

When P.I. Gray Fullbuster is invited to a noble's party by a client the part goers start falling asleep. A night out turns into a new case that he has to solve before he falls asleep with them.

**-EtS-**

The bright lights were insanely uncomfortable against his skin. He could feel the pressure of the full room bearing down on top of him, the collar of his shirt felt too tight around his neck.

He didn't wear a suit often but when he did Gray was forced to go all out. There have been three parties that he was forced to attend, all of them were high-class, north city gigs. They came with their own band, food and drinks were carted around the room by waiters, and long dresses swooshed around the room as people danced. Gray preferred the exact opposite. A questionable bar that sold cold beer, with a television tapped to the ceiling who's screen jumped when the door opened.

A man donning a silver tray stacked high with refreshments passed by. Gray snatched up a glass of wine before leaning heavily against the wall, swirling it silently. He didn't like wine – not because it tasted bad, it was just too sophisticated for his liking.

He didn't know why he had accepted the invite. This wasn't his seen and when he had told Juvia about it – he didn't know why he had been in the morgue either – she gave him a shocked look before breaking down into silent laughter.

"Ah! Mr. Fullbuster, you made it."

Gray turned to the woman who invited him. She was well dressed in a wide, blood red gown. The layers dragged across the floor in the back, but rose high enough to show a pair of silver stilettos. She was taller then Gray by a few inches, making her over six feet. Despite all her finesse, Gray couldn't help but stare at her breast. They were too exposed for such a formal party.

"You didn't give me much of a choice," he frowned. "You're men dragged me out of my apartment."

Rosalie Wickens mimicked his frown, added puppy eyes to the mix. "I am sorry, Mr. Fullbuster, but it was imperative that you come. I feared the worse and didn't want to take chance."

"The worse being?"

"That you wouldn't show."

"It'd been the plan," he mumble, stealing a glass of cider off a passing tray. The waiter, no older then Gray, didn't pass him a second glance – all of his attention seemed to be reserved for the women. "Well?"

"Well?" Rose cocked an eyebrow, stepping closer. Despite not looking it, Rosalie was old enough to be Gray's mother, but she still preferred to dine with the younger crowd and it made Gray wary.

He flinched away as her hand brushed his. "You sure as hell didn't invite me here for drinks. What's going to show u-"

"Gray?"

The man snapped around. The voice was familiar; to a woman it might sound husky enough to be attractive but to Gray it was like nails on a chalkboard. He new the voice and he new the man behind it too.

"Lyon," he greeted, turning to face his brother. Behind him, Rosalie preened at the sight of another pretty face.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were too good for these parties."

Gray rolled his eyes. That self-righteous tone grated on ever nerve in his body. "Lyon, get your foot out of your ass. I'm here on a job."

"And it Ms. Wickens paying you?"

"If she wants the job completed."

A soft palm landing on his shoulder, directing his attention back to the hostess. Rosalie blinked up at him with soft eyes, she practically purred when both his and hers locked. Gray shivered. There was more to two's eyes locking then it appeared. The eyes, being the windows that they were, could tell someone skilled enough when a person was lying - when they'd fallen in love, or when they were ready to boil over. Two derivatives saw more than that. That was a surface, the glass. Two derivatives saw a new world.

"The job will be completed, Mr. Fullbuster." she smiled. "I can assure you of that."

A scream ripped through the crowd. All heads in the room snapped in that direction, Rosalie jumped, inelegantly landing on her dress and almost falling. Both Gray and Lyon took their time responding, Lyon turning to the sound slowly, taking a small sip of his, apparently distasteful, drink while Gray pinched the bridge of his nose, not bothering to look at all.

Gray spat. "Hell, no matter how small something is, you first class citizens act like someone was shot." As it turned out though, Ms. Wickens wasn't paying him any mind. She had already taken off through the crowd, ushering people aside with butterfly touches. The bender had to give her that much, even when she was freaking out she carried herself well.

"At least they give a reaction. Makes them human. What does that say for you?" Lyon asked. He was staring into the crowd with glazed, half-interested eyes.

"Or you."

With a resolving sigh, Gray started making his own way through the crowd, chasing the path of the scream to its source. He followed Rosalie's already carved path. Though he could push himself through the violent streets of rush hour, he found that trying to create your own path in a herd of people not going anywhere was extremely difficult; like trying to put on pants with all limbs tied together.

What he found on the other end didn't surprise him. It was getting hard to do that nowadays, he was building one hell of a repertoire.

There was a young girl lying on the floor. With one quick look Gray saw that she was alive and there was no reason for half the women and some of the men around them to be looking so bloody terrified. An old woman was crouched down by her side, her hand rested on the girls arm to take her pulse. She looked almost calmer then both Gray and Lyon combined. Seconds ticked by before the woman did anything. When she finally moved it was to beckon Rosalie and, presumably, the young girls partner.

Rosalie glided back to Gray when the lady finished, stealing Gray's attention once more, as she so loved to do. In the background the bender could make out the partner carrying the girl from the room bridle style.

"She's just asleep, but I cannot fathom why she would just..."

Cocking an eyebrow, Gray finished, "Drop?"

"Exactly." Rosalie rubbed her forearm, looking around the room, pointedly avoiding anyone's face. "Her fiancé assured me that she was lively just a moment ago, laughing, dancing, everything. So, why?"

"How?"

She blinked. "Pardon."

"How, Rosalie," Gray elaborated. "It's how."

"Are you trying to correct me on my grammar, Mr. Fullbuster? Cause I can assure you this isn't the time."

Gray sucked at his teeth. The conversation was waring on him, fast. But he had to admit that he didn't feel half as tired as Ms. Wickens looked. If you glanced you'd think she'd run a marathon.

"You called me here cause you thought there'd be a job for me. I'm pretty damn sure that this is it. How did she fall asleep?"

"I don't..."

"Think, Rosalie." She sucked in a sharp breath. "You were born a derivative, you have to know something that can make people drop."

When she still couldn't manage an answer Gray drew her away, away from the crowd and the noise and the whispers that seemed louder then the live band in the corner. He led her up the stairs, past gossipers and into one of the private rooms. It was quiet, the thick walls shutting out all sound. If Ms. Wickens hadn't been tailing him, and if Lyon hadn't shown up, and if that lady hadn't dropped, maybe Gray would have escaped to here, just to get out of the fray.

Gray took a seat on the bed, Rosalie hastily dropping down beside him. Maybe because it was a bed. Mostly likely because Ms. Wickens looked as if she would pass out herself.

"You know something, Rose," Gray persisted. "You wouldn't have sent for me if you didn't."

She grinned, her lidded eyes watching him intently as her hand trailed over his thigh. He quickly plucked that hand off. "I could have asked you here for other reason you know."

"Oh for- Rosalie. Christ. You said when I came here that there was something. You were honest then, you're not honest now. Even if, you were born a derivative."

"And you're not a derivative at all, are you Mr. Fullbuster?"

The door creaked open, revealing Lyon. Gray was quickly getting sick of his face. "No, Ms Wicken's, he isn't. But he's quickly becoming one. Aren't you, brother?"

"I-"

"Brother?!" Rose snapped. Gray was forced to calm her down before elaborating. With a wave of his hand, the room got chilly. Rose shivered, her attention neatly averted.

"Drop it, Lyon," Gray snarled through gritted teeth. "Just fucking drop it."

"Very well. Do you know what you're looking for yet?"

"No. Someone is being unhelpful. Someone else is interrupting."

Lyon nodded. The door was still open behind him and he slipped through it, "I also thought that you would like to know three more people are asleep."

Then he was gone.

Gray blinked after him, before jumping to his feet and throwing himself out the door.

More people had fallen asleep had been an understatement. Even as Gray watched he could see the rich and the second class dropping like flies. One crashed into a table and the occupying vase scattered in broken pieces across the floor.

"Rosalie, whats-" He turned around but there was nothing. Ms. Wickens was sprawled out onto the bed, rubbing her eyes. Like she didn't have the energy to stand up, much less be off any real help to Gray.

"Sandman..." she whispered as she gave her face a final fruitless scrub. "Don't listen to the Sandman."

With that her hand fell limp to the side and a soft, flowing melody filled the air. Gray's head snapped left, then right. Searching for the source to no avail. All the while he racked his brain; Sandman, Sandman. But the only information he could dig up was a silly childish tails of the some man pouring sleeping sand into kids eyes to make them sleep.

"But that can't be the same Sandman."

"Oh..." whispered the melody. It had begun to pick up words now, words that weren't the sibilant ones speaking to Gray. "He is very real. Child's best friend though, that he is not."

A chilly hand slipped over Gray's hip. Chilly, not so much in temperature, but the notion it carried sent shivered up his spine. He couldn't turn around.

"I am leaving now, and I must bid thee adieu, even though we shall see each other again. Let us see if you have break my spell before it becomes something eternal."

The voice was gone, so was the touch, so was Gray's only source of information. The Sandman.

He remembered the Sandman now. A myth even amongst all the derivatives that he'd met to date, the Sandman was a demon that had been some of the roots for more then one fairy tale. Only in reality his spell wouldn't be broken with some kiss.

Yet, it could be broken. The voice had eluded to that much. However it'd also said that Gray was on the clock, so to speak. After so long everyone would be doomed.

He'd so have a bone to pick with Ms. Wickens when she awoke. If.

The whispering grew louder and more incessant as time passed. Gray cursed at it, it was a mosquito in the dark, invisible and more the annoying. "You'd think that Sandy would take his damn choir with him."

He could here a timer going down in his head as the gears turned. Midnight, everything would end at midnight and it was already- he glanced at the grandfather clock to the left – quarter-to-twelve. That didn't give him all that much time to figure this out without any clues.

"Don't listen to the Sandman," he repeated, with venom. "That's the only advice you got for me after I grilled you for it? At least he was willing to tell me something."

Even if the man had been playing a game he had still told Gray more. Now, you'd just think that he'd given Gray a hint.

Maybe he did, though. The whispering was loud enough, clear enough, that Gray would make out what was being said now; and it just so happened to be a prayer. Gray had never been the religious type but he'd went to catholic school and some things had been drilled into his head. One being the morning prayer – _Our Father_ – and the other being _Now I lay me down to sleep._

Only, Gray remembered it being a little more kids friendly then this.

So he echoed, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. If I shall die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." Nothing. "Damn it!" He slammed his fist down onto the railing. Chips came away into his hands, the bender stared at them unblinking, watching as bloody flowers bloomed. They danced and waved at him, spreading their peddles and twisting around his wrist, his arm, him.

"Gray?"

He turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. Rosalie.

"Gray," she repeated. He marvelled at how young she looked. Even though Ms. Wickens had always looked young for her age there had been definite age lines on her face, crows feet starting by her eyes and her cheeks folded into dimples when she smiled. Though she wasn't smiling now. "What are you doing here?"

He frowned. "Where's here?"

"The dream realm. Y-you didn't..."

Hands wrapped around him from behind and just like before he couldn't turn to look at their owner. "It seems that he didn't. He just wasn't fast enough to dodge my brother's trap."

"The voice-"

"Me," it pipped. "Morpheus. The unseen, by you, king of dreams. And yes, before you ask, mister Sandman is my brother. Dad can be an ass sometimes."

Gray granted him a slow nod, mulling this turn of events over... Wait. "Brother? Dad?"

The voice's owner pressed his cheek to Gray's, nuzzling it. Gray returned the motion with a snarl, causing Morpheus to back off a bit. "Yes, you innocent boy. They're the same. In any case, why don't you finish dreaming and I, much like my father, slash brother, slash whatever, will be seeing you."

And he was gone, leaving Gray and Rosalie alone.

"I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to it."

* * *

_I don't even know. :T It's.. um... I made everything up as I went. Same verse as Finding the Dragon, only set before he'd ever met Lucy. Just... yeah. _

_Enjoy?_

_And Merry Christmas. :)_


End file.
